


Memories

by xxMad_Donaxx



Series: Kitty [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Kitty!Fenris, Tiny Amount of Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxMad_Donaxx/pseuds/xxMad_Donaxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While out with Hawke, Anders and Fenris become separated and are captured by slavers. The incident causes all kinds of revelations.</p>
<p>Rated M for mentions of past abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Since angst-free Fenders is rather non-existent, this and the next one I'm planning will be a lot less fluffy than the others. It's nowhere near as bad as some angstfests I've read but still...not very fluffy.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: There are mentions of past abuse and, if you squint, implied rape/non-con.

Fenris paced the length of the cell while Anders huddled in the corner of the next one over. The only light came from torches spaced evenly along the opposite wall. He didn’t know exactly where they were, only that they were in one of the many underground tunnels on Sundermount. They were locked in adjoining holding cells, separated by iron bars. His cell was exactly four paces wide and almost two deep. The locks on the doors had proved resistant to his phasing abilities and Anders had been fitted with a collar that cut off his magic.

It would have been easy enough for Fenris to change and slip through the bars but he was reluctant to leave the mage alone. They had become separated from Hawke and Isabela while searching the tunnels for some sort of mushroom for the herbalist in the Gallows. While searching for the way out, he and Anders had been overwhelmed by a group of slavers. They had both fought tooth and nail, making the enemy pay a heavy price but their superior numbers had won in the end.

There was no way of knowing how long they had been unconscious. After they were both awake, Anders had chattered endlessly as he paced the cage. The collar had been ceaselessly tugged on but as the hours wore on, the mage became less and less animated. He had also become distressingly quiet. Fenris knelt next to him and Anders’ eyes flicked over to him for a moment before returning to the door of his cell.

“Are you all right?” Fenris asked hesitantly. He knew the mage was far from all right but honestly had no idea what to say or do. Giving comfort was not something he typically did.

“Not really,” he answered with a nervous smile. It disappeared quickly as he swallowed hard. “At least there are no manacles chained to the wall…”

He reached through the bars as he sat, touching Anders’ arm lightly. “These are holding cells, pens where slaves were kept…waiting to be sold.” Anders took a shuddering breath but remained quiet. “I have visited places like these…with Danarius.”

“You’ve never been in one?” said Anders without turning his gaze from the door.

“Not that I recall,” he answered softly.

“What do they want with us?” Anders said his voice shaking slightly. “Where is Hawke? It’s been hours now.”

“He will come,” Fenris said confidently. “I could go find him if you wish…”

“No!” Anders exclaimed in a panic. He clutched Fenris’ hand in a death grip. “Please don’t leave me alone!”

“I won’t leave you,” said Fenris softly putting his other arm through the bars, patting his shoulder awkwardly.

They fell silent again and Fenris heard people coming down the hall. Anders abruptly let go of his hand and curled up tighter, trying to squeeze himself further into the corner he already occupied. Fenris patted his shoulder again before standing, his hands clenched into fists. Three men appeared in the hallway, two with arrows knocked and bowstrings taut, the third holding their water skins.

“It’s taking your friends a little longer to find you than we thought it would,” said the third man. “Since we can’t have the merchandise keeling over…” He tossed the skins at the barred door and they landed just outside. “Sit tight pretties, we’ll be leaving soon enough, with or without your friends.”

The one who’d spoken slowly backed away, behind the two bowmen. Fenris judged his chances of a surprise charge as poor. If there had been only one arrow trained on them or if the man who’d spoken didn’t have the feel of magic, he might have chanced it. As it was, he watched them retreat and turned back to Anders when they were no longer visible. The mage was silently shaking his head, arms locked around his knees in a white knuckled grip.

“Anders,” Fenris said kneeling next to him again. There was no response other than the mage stilling completely, his gaze locked on the cell door. Fenris put his hand through the bars again, repeating his name as he lightly touched his arm. Anders went rigid and squeezed his eyes shut. He pulled his arm back quickly, frowning deeply.

Fenris stood taking the two steps to the front of his cell and kneeling to grab the closest water skin. He pushed it through the bars to Anders’ side and shifted to his cat form. A conversation had not too long ago drifted through his mind, one that the mage had had with Hawke while Fenris lay in his lap. A year in solitary confinement, a cat his only desirable company, this must be where his mind is.

It was easy to squeeze through the bars, a little harder to drag the water skin to his side. Fenris sniffed it cautiously but could detect no foreign odors. He turned to the mage, not satisfied that the water hadn’t been tampered with but unable to do anything about it. Fenris carefully pushed his way onto Anders’ lap. It was an awkward and tight fit but he managed.

With most of his weight resting on his hind quarters, which were situated towards the bottom of the mages’ tightly pressed together thighs, he stretched up a short distance to rest his forepaws on one of his arms. Fenris mewed, flicked his tail against Anders’ side over to his thigh and back again. The mage was curled so tightly it was only a little stretch to butt his head against his chin.

“A year,” Anders said quietly after a short amount of time. He unfurled the tiniest bit, moving slowly to position Fenris on his chest. Hands that were normally quite steady were now shaking as they moved restlessly along his back and side.

“A year,” he repeated in a whisper. “Spent in the bowels of the Tower, in a cell just like this.”

Fenris mewed quietly, rubbing his cheek along the mages’ chest, unsure if he wanted Anders to continue.

“No magic, very little light and completely alone most of the time. It was punishment…for my sixth escape…a year Fenris.” He listened quietly, offering him the only comfort he could, purring. “I was publicly flogged before they stuck me in that hole. An example, even Spirit Healers will be dealt with when they step out of line.”

Anders uncurled a little more, slouching and extending his legs a bit. Fenris settled a little more comfortably, his hands still moving restlessly through his fur. He took a deep breath leaned over a little, kissing Fenris between his ears.

“Maybe you _should_ go find Hawke,” Anders murmured. Picking up Fenris as he sat up, squeezing gently before setting him on the floor. “Or find a key…just…hurry…”

Fenris turned back around toward Anders rubbing along his leg, still worried. “Meow!”

A nervous smile and another stroke along his back as he said, “I think I’ll be all right. Just hurry…please.”

With one last pass along his thigh, Fenris turned and ran for the hallway. He slipped through the bars and when he was out he paused to look at him one last time. Anders still sat in the corner, knees as close to his chest as he could get them, arms hugging them and his chin resting on them. His eyes were haunted and Fenris mewed.

“Hurry,” Anders whispered.

He turned and raced down the hallway staying close to the wall. Paying close attention so that he could find his way back, Fenris listened for Hawke’s deep booming voice and Isabela’s laughter. Through the tunnels he hurried, staying in the shadows as he searched. After backtracking out of several corridors that led to more cells he was starting to feel frustrated. Hiding from another group of slavers, who all seemed to be going in the same direction, he followed.

Frustration turned to hope when he began hearing familiar cries and the sounds of battle. He shifted back to his elven form and surprised the group he was following. Making quick work of them he picked up a discarded great sword and followed the sounds into a large cavern. He joined the battle with a roar, surprising the enemy from behind.

There were pleased shouts from Hawke and Isabela as well as Aveline and her husband Donnic. Fenris now knew what had taken them so long but he focused on ending the battle quickly. When the last slaver fell Fenris dropped his borrowed sword and was surrounded by his friends before he could do much else.

“Fenris!” Hawke boomed happily smacking his shoulder. “Good to see you in one piece but where’s Anders?”

“In a holding cell further in,” he said. “Follow me.”

“How did you get free?” Aveline asked as Fenris turned back the way he’d come.

Fenris didn’t hesitate to show her. It would be much easier to find his way back in the same form he’d left. He shifted to cat form and raced for the doorway, leaving behind surprised curses.

“Don’t lose him!” he heard Hawke exclaim.

He stayed just far enough ahead of them so that he wouldn’t be caught. Leading them quickly through the corridors back to the holding cells, Anders came into view. He sat in the same position but scrambled to his feet when he heard their friends approaching noisily behind him. He slipped back through the bars and into his waiting arms.

“Fenris,” Anders said cradling him to his chest.

Hawke was the first to appear, followed quickly by the others. There were puzzled glances but Isabela knelt to the door lock almost immediately. Anders moved quickly to the door, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. He bolted through as soon as it was open.

“Isn’t that the cat that shows up at your clinic?” Hawke asked curiously when Anders stood among them. “We saw Fenris change into this cat.”

“I told you he didn’t belong to anyone,” Anders said defensively. “Can we talk about this later please? I’d really like to get out of here.”

“Sounds good,” Isabela said sauntering past. “We can talk over ale at the Hanged Man. We found your stuff earlier.”

Fenris was content to let Anders carry him. He wasn’t looking forward to answering any of their questions but knew they were inevitable. At least the mage seemed to be in better spirits.

***

It was late when they made it back to Kirkwall and later still when Fenris and Anders were allowed to leave the Hanged Man. The lock on the collar had proven too complicated for Isabela and there had even been much cursing from Varric along with a couple of broken lock picks before it had finally been removed. Hawke had taken it, no doubt tinkering with it to see how it worked.

They had asked many questions. Fenris answered most of them but neither he nor Anders had answered any of the personal questions that had come up. The both of them were still not exactly sure what hung between them. Now that they were finally alone again Fenris could feel tension between them.

Anders sighed heavily, lighting candles as Fenris locked the clinic doors. He stood just inside, unsure how to proceed. The mage sighed again as he stood in the middle of the clinic, back turned to him. Fenris watched in silence as the feathers were removed and set on a cot he stood next to.

“I’m sorry Fenris,” Anders said quietly.

“They promised to keep it secret,” said Fenris taking a few cautious steps forward. “That is all I can ask.”

“I…sort of feel responsible…” he said his voice still soft. The coat joined his feathers on the cot. “You deserve an explanation. You didn’t have to stay with me…but I’m grateful you did.”

“Anders…” Fenris said taking another cautious step forward.

He looked back over his shoulder and smiled. “It’s all right. I’ve known one of your secrets for a long time now. I can trust you with one of mine. My…behavior earlier…will make more sense.”

In one smooth motion he pulled off his shirt, leaving his torso bare and Fenris was struck speechless. His back was covered in scars. From the tops of his shoulder blades to disappear under his trousers, they were all too familiar. He had seen scars like these on many slaves, was ashamed to admit that he’d caused some when Danarius had ordered him to whip defiant slaves.

“They go all the way down to my thighs,” said Anders turning around, his voice surprisingly steady.

Fenris realized then why he’d never seen them. From the front, there was no visible evidence. There were scars but these were likely from weapons or, knowing Anders how he did, a shoddy healing job on himself because others were in far worse condition. During campouts the mage was very careful not to let anyone see his back when there was a nearby body of water to bathe in.

“During my time in solitary they did their best to break me,” Anders continued in that same steady voice. “Chained me to the wall, whip me bloody then taunt, hoping I’d turn to demons so they could justify killing me outright. It never worked…not even when they…” His voice held a small tremor when he stopped speaking abruptly. He shook his head and sat on the closest cot and leaned over to work his boots off. “I’ll understand if you’d rather go elsewhere…now that they know.”

His voice still wouldn’t work and Fenris would have no idea what to say even if it did. After his boots were removed the mage wouldn’t look at him, just sat on the cot with his forearms resting on his knees staring at the floor between his feet. The silence wore on with neither of them speaking or moving.

He would have to think on this. It was shocking to see the evidence of such harsh treatment. Fenris knew that he didn’t want to go elsewhere however. Shifting forms, hoping that it would be enough for now, he walked over to Anders and sat between his feet. Looking silently up at him with his tail curled around him he saw Anders smile.

There was still no talk as the mage picked him up, cradled gently against his bare chest. In the small hours of the morning they went through their normal nightly routine. Fenris lay awake long after Anders had drifted off, troubled thoughts circling in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanon on Anders' year in solitary is sort of convoluted. I never thought about him having scars until I read some of the wonderfully written pieces by various authors here. It is now part of my headcanon. I have believed from very near the beginning of my DA obsession that he was sexually abused during that year but he doesn't believe that he was raped.


End file.
